


roses for traitors

by 10redplums



Series: fairy court adventures [3]
Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms
Genre: Exposition, Fairy Tale Elements, Gen, Other, Treason, Violence, child endangerment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:20:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28593153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10redplums/pseuds/10redplums
Summary: Retrieve the regents' wayward knight. It should be easy. (Nothing is easy.)
Series: fairy court adventures [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1803916
Kudos: 1
Collections: Banned Together Bingo 2020





	1. Chapter 1

The forest gets denser and denser as they pass through it, and then suddenly the light changes. The trees are no less threatening, no less full of thorns, but it gets brighter and brighter, until they’re in broad daylight unhindered by trees. 

There is instead a gate, and a wall, and a rose garden, and beyond all of those there is a house almost like a castle. 

“I don’t have anything I can pay you,” Arthur says, plucking at Cass’s sleeve. Cass looks down at him and smiles.

“Well, for now you can help us deal with this wayward knight,” Cass says, which is how they get you, really. But they stop at the gate and Cass hops down, hoping to find someone to open it, and it swings open apparently of its own volition. Cass looks up at Tom as if expecting  _ him  _ to understand anything, and then shrugs and climbs back into the driver’s seat. They flick the reins lightly and the horses move, and they head up the drive.

“As I said,” Cass says, as they pass over a gravel drive lined with more rose bushes, “I won’t ask anything of you that you can’t pay, for this.” They reach the front doors and hop off, Cass helping Arthur down. The boy goes down, brow furrowed and mouth twisting, and Cass pats him on the head.

The manor doors open to an enormous foyer, with an equally enormous staircase. A man stands at the top of it, hand resting lightly on the banister. He’s tall and slender and not obviously armed, dressed in blue and green and gold and with an elaborately-decorated mask over his eyes. Golden hair falls to his shoulders and frames his face. Tom and Arthur follow Cass in, and they stop at the foot of the stairs.

“Welcome, intruders!” the man says, gesturing broadly and starting to come down. “Please, let me have you for dinner.”

“What,” Tom says. Arthur squeaks and hides behind him and for once Tom can’t even fault him.

“I don’t want to be eaten,” he says.

“As guests! You will not be eaten,” the man says. “I will not be eaten. Come, come!” He snaps his fingers and Tom feels something  _ b e n d _ , and then they’re in an enormous dining hall. The man is sitting at the head of the long table in a high-backed chair, Cass at his right and Tom at his left, and Arthur beside Tom. The room is all warm light and polished wood, with a large fireplace apparently built of thick thorny vines behind him. 

“Where are my manners?” the man says. “You may call me Cain.” 

He keeps the mask on, rude. He waves a hand and the first of what will probably be many courses appears on the table.

“I’m Arthur,” the boy says. This close Tom can see his eyes are a bright blue, and they glitter as he smiles at him.

“A pleasure to meet you, Arthur,” he says. “Your companions I already know.” He invites them to eat in a way that seems to satisfy Cass but seems a little overwrought to Tom, and they start eating. The food is served by intricately detailed wooden mannequins, which has Tom’s skin crawling when he realizes what they are. Cass doesn’t mention it, and so he doesn’t either. 

One wall is dominated by huge stained-glass windows with roses that grow and bloom and wither, and Tom has to tear his eyes away as Cass and Cain talk. He spots Arthur out of the corner of his eye examining one of the forks curiously and assesses them himself: false gold, more durable than the real stuff.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” Cain says, smiling at Arthur. He has. Nice teeth. “What are you doing, traveling with these two? And through my realm?”  _ His  _ realm. What is Cass planning? 

“Um, they took me?” Arthur says. Well, to be accurate Cass took him. “And… I don’t know? Are you a ruler?”

“I rule… much of this,” Cain says, gesturing expansively. What, the room? Much of the room? But Arthur nods and looks to Cass, who has their chin on one hand and is watching Cain. Tom keeps eating. “Tell me more about yourself, young Arthur,” he says. “These two are… not new to me.” Well, Cass isn’t. Cass isn’t new to anyone. Whatever else Cain may be, though, he’s a good cook. Lots of spices. All throughout the windows grow and bloom and wither, and the vines of the fireplace creep out.

“Um, but I hardly know you,” he says. Cain gives him another dazzling smile and then there’s a rose in his hand, and he offers it to Arthur, and Cass reaches across the table and plucks it from his hand. They put it beside their own cup and dab at their mouth with a napkin, ignoring Cain’s pout, and Tom nearly laughs.

“Why don’t you tell me more about you, first?” Arthur says, and Cain puts his chin on one hand and smiles at Arthur.

“I’m very interested in you, for one thing,” he says, and Tom does snort at that. He hides it in his cup. “I’m very… alone, here. All this magic and no one to share it with.”

“Did you always have all this magic?” Arthur says, and as they talk Cass meets Tom’s eyes and gestures at something with their own. A thorn pricks Tom’s hand, and a rose blooms under his wrist. Cass looks away to play with the rose blooming over their shoulder, deeper than the wine-red of their hair.

“I… came to it,” Cain says. “But no. Not at the start.” Were the vines carved into Cain’s chair always in such sharp relief? “But now I wield it, and then the spring realm will be mine as well.” The roses in the windows grow and bloom and wither, bigger and thornier and a red deeper still than the buds trying to charm Cass. Cain, also, turns to them and smiles, and holds out an upturned palm. “You could fight for me, as my knight,” he says. “What do you desire? Name it.”

“Um, I think something’s wrong,” Arthur says, and Tom drinks some more wine. No shit. “I don’t want to work with anyone. Cass?” Cain smiles, and Cass blinks slowly, at Arthur. “Cass, something’s wrong. Tom?” Tom allows a mannequin, features eroded now, to pour him some more wine, and raises an eyebrow at Arthur. “I think we’re overstaying our welcome?”

Cass sighs and puts their naked sword on the table. “Draw,” they say.

The furniture disappears and Tom hauls Arthur back, away from the broad ring of black rose petals that suddenly appears around Cain and Cass.

“What’s happening! Cass, don’t fight!” Cain has drawn his own sword, a slender thing with a wicked red blade and a green hilt. He stands tall against Cass’s ready crouch.

Tom shoves Arthur out of the way and dodges a mannequin’s slash; two more have appeared, one for each of them, their faces now totally smooth. A sword appears at Arthur’s hip and then Cain scores a hit on Cass, and then Tom has to attend to his own fight.

The mannequin isn’t the best fighter to begin with; even the boy can hold his own. Tom’s is no match for him, and degrades as Cain’s own fight drags on. The roses in the windows have finally stopped moving.

Another takes Tom’s mannequin’s place as he breaks the first one into matchwood. He hears Cain  _ still _ making promises, and then threats, and then promises.  _ What _ is Cass doing? His mannequin thrusts at him and he turns it aside, and then he stabs it hard and  _ twists _ and splits it down the middle.

Cass cries out and Tom whirls; Cain’s hit them where the armor is lighter and their blood drips on the floor. They’ve dropped their sword. Tom is going to  _ die _ here because Cass- Cass charges under Cain’s guard and bulldozes him out of the ring, and his back hits the floor first. They pin him there, his hands above his head, Cass grinning. Tom breathes again.

There’s a clatter as Arthur’s mannequin falls apart and he rejoins Tom as Tom catches his breath.

“Tom, we should help Cass,” he says and- Tom puts a hand over Arthur’s and the boy yelps. He doesn’t need to see Cass.  _ Tom _ doesn’t need to see Cass. This is ridiculous, and Tom can’t hold back a soft noise of exasperation. “Tom?”

“Things kids shouldn’t see,” he says. He can feel Arthur blinking behind his hand. Cass pulls away with a soft smack and Tom rolls his eyes, and moves away from Arthur. 

The room is normal again, the windows only windows. Arthur turns back to Tom. Cass helps Cain up.

“Are you okay?” he says. 

“‘M fine,” Tom says.

“Thanks for catching me earlier…”

“Don’t mention it.”

Cass rejoins them, Cain in tow. They spot a cut on Arthur’s cheek and roll their eyes at Cain as if to say  _ you really hurt a child?  _ and the cut closes up, and Cass sighs.

“Hold him for me, would you?” Cass says, handing Cain over to the both of them. Tom holds one arm and Arthur holds another, the boy looking determined, but it seems unnecessary as Cain stands docile. Cass goes back for their sword, petals ruffling in the breeze stirred up by their cape, and they hold it.

They roll their shoulders back and stare around at the room. They look… bigger, somehow, and brighter, and as they turn in a slow circle the vines on the doors pull back and the shadows retreat. Tom hears Cain’s soft gasp. Yes. Who did Cain think he was propositioning? What did he possibly think he could offer Cass?

Cass returns to them, once more just the soft fool who picks up strays, and smiles. The four of them return to the wagon, where the vines entangling the wheels hurriedly retreat. Cain collapses with a soft sigh the second they cross the threshold and Cass catches him, scooping him up into their arms.

Tom hops up into the driver’s seat. Cass takes Cain inside, probably to attend to him, and Arthur follows.

When Tom feels the reins twitch in his hands, he flicks them gently and takes them out of the forest.


	2. Chapter 2

They stop in a small clearing and Tom takes care of the horses, and then goes inside.

Cass is in the kitchen, still in their armor, totally taking Tom for granted. They’ve taken their greaves off, at least. One arm is up on the table, a gash running all the way through the gauntlet and everything underneath, but not the skin. The other arm sits in their lap, the hand marked with tiny punctures. They’ll have to get that armor repaired the next time they see Aria. 

“Stupid,” Tom says, throwing his own armor off. He takes off the punctured armor first, throwing the gauntlet on the table; the thorns had made it all the way through. He stares at Cass until the idiot relents, and the pricks start to bleed. Green starts to creep up Cass’s hand, and they gasp in pain. “Shit-”

The crystal dagger is in his other hand and he buries it in the poisoned flesh, twitching it this way and that as Cass grits their teeth until he feels something catch. He pulls up and a short thorny branch comes with the knife, and he flips it around and stabs it, pinning it to the cutting board. They’ll have to replace that one. It was getting old, anyway. He removes Cass’s other gauntlet.

That one is simpler, Cass simply letting go of their iron grasp on their flesh and letting where Cain cut them finally show. The long gash appears and Tom is there, holding their arm shut as his other hand with the empty needle dips in and out of their flesh. Slowly, slowly, it closes. 

“You should’ve let me fight him,” he says.

“It was fine,” Cass says, gently, and Tom snorts. He’s never heard them call a fight otherwise. He wonders what it’d take to take them down.

“You spent all your energy on the idiot, didn’t you?” he says. Really, are they expecting  _ Tom _ to be able to keep them safe while Cass recuperates? They grin sheepishly at him.

“He’ll be fine. I’m worried about the mansion, though.”

Arthur appears in the doorway, wringing his hands. “Can I help?” he says, and Cass looks up at him. “What about the mansion?”

“Um- well,” they say. “There are some buckles on my armor I can’t get at right now?” Their breastplate is still on. “Please undo them. I’ll tell you about the mansion.”

Arthur rushes to help, and Tom cleans up the blood. Slowly, slowly, Cass’s hand starts to warm up again. They flex their fingers in his.

“The mansion and the grounds,” they say. “They were what was powering him. He was telling the truth about wanting us on his side.” Soft. They grasp Tom’s hand. “They… gave him power, and whispered to him.”

“Um-”

“That he could take over the spring court,” Cass says, and then looks up at Arthur. “Yes?”

“Side for what?” Arthur says, still wringing his hands. Tom starts to cover and bandage Cass’s arm; the needle’s dealt with the worst of the damage but it’s getting weak and the flesh still looks a little raw. Arthur starts on the buckles of the other side of their breastplate.

“Side for- hmm,” Cass says, not looking at Tom. They’ve had this talk before. “Well, he’d tried to overthrow the regents, eventually. Wanted us to fight for him. Ow!”

“Sorry,” Tom says, not sorry at all. Relaxes his hands from around Cass’s arm. Arthur nods.

“I guess the mansion wanted to rule through him, maybe? I’ll ask later when he’s awake.” And Tom will be elsewhere, playing with the cat, desperately trying not to hear anything.

“What do the regents do?” 

“They- rule the spring court?” Cass looks up, blinking. They really have to remember Arthur is new to all this. The regents also steal people. “All these lands until the borders are theirs.” They gesture with the other, now-uninjured arm.

“Can’t you rule it? You seem nicer than they are,” Arthur says, and Cass smiles and laughs. They shake their head, and Tom leans in. Maybe they’ll listen to the kid. Tom doubts it. They’ve had this talk before.

“You could,” Tom says. “Don’t lie. You could rule. You’re strong enough.”

“That’s treasonous talk,” Cass says, smiling, just as they have every other time. “And anyway, who’d save kids from flowers then?” As if they wouldn’t be able to just shape the land according to their will.

“It’s not!” The kid doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Cass is right. “I mean, I’m not from here- flowers?”

“The poppies,” Cass says to Arthur. “I have to wander the countryside in case someone falls asleep in them,” they say, as if that’s all they do. They shake their head. “And it really is treasonous talk. You two are talking about attacking the regents.”

“But from the looks of it, isn’t it a thing that happens?”

“Well, people try. Not everyone succeeds. And then they get punished for it?” As if Cass wouldn’t overthrow them handily. As if Cass couldn’t stave off any threat from the other courts.

“You could do it,” Tom says, needing them to at least consider the possibility. Needing soft, stupid Cass in particular to- “You could rule. You’d have a quarter of the power in all of fairyland, and then I-” he cuts himself off. The boy is still listening, and he has no right to Tom’s quest. Cass just smiles at him indulgently, as they always have.

“Speaking of,” they say, looking to the bedroom door. “I think we’ll take the long route. I think our guest will want to negotiate something.” They gasp in pain as Tom digs his thumbs into where the cut is now covered by the bandages. They’ll want to get to know their guest a little better, Tom’s sure. “Why,” Cass says, laughing through the pain. 

“Why would you give him  _ anything.” _

“Too tight,” Arthur says, panicking and flapping at him. 

“They’re an  _ idiot, _ ” Tom hisses at him, but relents and relaxes his grip. “I take it all back. I don’t want an idiot on the throne.”

“Huzzah,” Cass says, laughing. “I am free to rescue more strays.” Tom rolls his eyes.

“What do you do with strays?” Arthur says, as if he isn’t one himself. As if he isn’t living in a wagon full of strays Cass has picked up. 

“Well, I try to feed them. Hasn’t worked with you yet, though.”

“Sorry,” Arthur says, fidgeting. “If- if I eat anything here, do I get stuck? That’s how it is with stories, right?”

“Well… it’s more complicated than that,” Cass says. “Short answer: no. Long answer, it depends.”

Arthur nods through the explanation. His stomach growls.

“Oh, you didn’t eat anything at Cain’s, did you? Tom, my hand?” They look at Tom and give him a pleading smile. He shakes his head. 

“What’ll you give me for it?” he says, and they laugh.

“I need to feed Arthur, Tom, come on.”

“Um, I’m okay,” Arthur says, and just. Leaves. Just leaves the kitchen area and peeks into the bedroom.  Tom shoves his chair back, and starts to clean up the kitchen. He disposes of the bramble first. He hears the cat fart, and Arthur shuts the door again. 

Arthur comes back. Tom spares him a glance, sighs, and cuts him a thick slice of bread. He takes out the pot of jam, as well, and puts the whole affair on the table.  “Given without obligation and all that shit,” he says. He looks away to glare at Cass’s back as they head into the bedroom.

“Oh,” Arthur says. “Um. Thank you?”

The cat comes scampering out and hops into Tom’s lap, and Cass shuts the door.


End file.
